


Think Twice and Knock Thrice

by dogtit, milesabovepeter



Series: pandora's box [1]
Category: Ever After High
Genre: F/F, a surprise, blondie and a select few are normies and everyone else is well, modern au with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/milesabovepeter/pseuds/milesabovepeter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace reporter (in training) Blondie Lockes goes on a supernatural ghost hunt, and gets a bit more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i could NOT have written this w/o konrad like honestly, they were such a huge HUGE HELP just in wordbuilding and laying all this out and comin up with a BUNCH of ideas and stuff, im super excited to write more w/them and show you guys this rad work. we didnt wanna go with just EVER AFTER everything, so if things seem a little Strange then....WELL! you get the idea. we hope you enjoy this!!

There was a legend about the old, condemned house on the outskirts of Afterever Hills. Or well, a very popular lie that spiraled out of control from the warnings of concerned parents, one that every teenager seemed to know. _Don’t go into the house_ , they would say, _don’t you know? People were murdered there_. That was how it always started out; a crazy father high on coke or a great uncle liquored to the gills taking a cleaver to the family that lived inside. Floorboards damp and moldy from all the blood, the screams still echoing in the halls, the dark writhing with every dirty little secret.

 

To a journalist like Blondie Lockes, it was the carrot at the end of the stick. Every new permutation of the Tale of That One Haunted House only carved an itch deeper and deeper into her bones until she could hardly wait until dark to grab her bike and finally ride out to the place. It was a journey seven years in the making. Her best friends had tried to tell her, often, that it was a bad idea. Her mother would be livid if she knew that Blondie was not, in fact, sleeping over at Ashlynn Ella’s place like she’d been told; and Ashlynn would be furious if she knew that Blondie had never intended on staying in to work on her world history paper that was due in two days.

 

Who cared about world history that had already been captured, when there was actual history just waiting for her to make it?!

 

Blondie checked her phone’s battery--a whopping ninety five percent, better than usual--and zipped up her jacked. Pedaling a bike while in heels was far harder than any standardized test she’d ever taken, but never let it be said that Blondie Lockes was not a trooper when it came to a scoop. August nights in the Hills were cooler than the days by a wide margin, though they came just as wetly; her leggings were damp at the knees and her jacket clung to her torso like the worst kind of hug.

 

 _It’s for the blog_ , Blondie motivated herself. _Do it for the blog, girl_.

 

Easier said than done, especially when it came to actually riding uphill to get to the backstreet that would take her to her destination. Who needed sports to keep in shape when you had the spirit of adventure, right? The ride down was far easier, letting gravity take over as she took a fast turn. Afterever Hills’s streets were made like a grid; every main road was parallel to the other, and perpendicular to the streets that held her favorite shops and restaurants. She didn’t have to waste her battery on pulling up her mapping app, at least.

 

It was still a long way to go, avoiding cars who might have held her classmates or worse, their parents. She didn’t need Helen McTerrible Haircut blabbing to her mother that she’d seen Blondie tearing down the street on her bike at ten in the evening, after all.

 

Finally coming up on the house was a relief and a bit terrifying. It didn’t look so monstrous in the day. It sagged on its foundation and all of the windows were boarded up. The front door was marked with neon orange spray with a huge X on it, and taped over in bright yellow with the blocky letters spelling CONDEMNED. A breeze blew by, causing the old structure to creak; Blondie was certain she heard something like laughter coming from inside. Blondie shoved her bike into the hedges, brushed off her skirt, pulled out an actual flashlight, and grabbed her phone to start recording.

 

“Blondie Lockes here,” she said in a low whisper, advancing upon the house and practically wading through a lawn with a decades worth of weeds covering it. “Coming at you live--wait, no, this is a recording. Shoot.”

 

She stopped the recording, erased it, and tried it again.

 

“Blondie Lockes here, reporting for Afterever High’s most popular--” And only, she silently added, “--supernatural blog, Spectral and Spectacular as always. I am here at the famous...house. Infamous house. The haunted one.” She was too far into her recording to justify ending it for a third restart, and sucked on her teeth. “You know the one! I’m going to do what no Afterever High student has done and _lived to tell the tale_.”

 

Dramatic pause. Blondie held the flashlight under her chin and flipped the phone’s camera to record herself.

 

“I’m going inside,” she said firmly.

 

Her first step on the dilapidated front porch made it groan in agony. Combined with the possibly real, possibly imaginary giggling, Blondie was starting to regret wearing heels. If the house itself were sentient, then she wouldn’t want someone stomping around in high heels, digging them into her skin. And if the house wasn’t as anthropomorphic as she was thinking, and there was actually someone inside planning to chop her into bits, sneakers would have been more appropriate for running away.

 

Blondie hoped it was the former.

 

“So okay, my phone wasn’t on for this but, uh,” Blondie ascended a step, heard it shriek in protest, and quickly shot up the rest of the way, “there was definitely some giggling. Disembodied laughter rumor confirmed.”

 

She put her flashlight between her teeth, reaching out to the yellow tape over the door. The moment her fingertips grazed the old, decaying wood, she felt a jolt zap through her body. She inhaled sharply through her nose, jerking her hand back, and swallowed as best she could.

 

Another breath for courage, and she ripped off the first of the yellow tape. It pooled around her feet like ribbons, fluttering away on the next breeze; all of the hairs on her body rose and her heart made a nice little rhythm against her ribcage. It was odd, but she felt watched; like someone was peering at her. Or some _thing_.

 

 _Don’t you dare chicken out before you even open this up_ , she scolded herself. Expecting it to be locked, Blondie reached out and took the heavy brass handle of the doorknob and turned it. Squealing around her flashlight, Blondie pushed open the door and promptly gagged.

 

Molded floors, and the musty scent of an old, closed in space; moths and gnats flew away from the beam of light that speared forward and Blondie quickly took her flashlight out of her mouth, breathing through her teeth as she took her first steps over the threshold. Expecting more creaky, spooky wood, she was surprised to hear nothing of the sort; a motheaten and ragged old rug cushioned her steps just inside. If it had any historic merit due to its designs or its make, time had done its worst on it. Coughing a bit to clear her throat, and squinting hard in the gloom, Blondie took several more steps inside.

 

“I am now _inside_ of the house,” she narrated to her phone, and to her future viewers. “So far, aside from the disembodied giggling, I have not encountered any further supernatural phenomena. Which kind of sucks? I was really hoping for something--”

 

The door slammed shut behind her. Blondie nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around, shining her light to the entrance as she heard a dulled _thump_ follow it.

 

“--worse,” Blondie breathed, staring. “Oh, no. Oh crap.” She hissed, “oh, _crap_ ,” and paused her recording to run for the door. The doorknob was missing, and the door itself--while as gross and old as her great uncle Horace--was thick and heavy. And she was five feet, four inches, and probably a hundred and seventy pounds when wet and with rocks in her pockets. There was no kicking it down and no suave, movie star worthy moves to get her out.

 

Blondie sucked in a breath, turned her phone one, and managed to crack out, “So, a ghost trapped me in the house. That’s fun!”

 

It had to have been a ghost. There had been a breeze blowing but it was a light one, and there was no way a light breeze could reach in, slam a heavy door with enough force to crack off the knob, and still be considered as such. Like it or not, Blondie realized with heavy dread, there really _was_ something lurking in the Haunted House on the Haunted Hill™. Who would have thought.

 

 _‘Smart people, that’s who.’_ Blondie closed her eyes, breathed out, and turned.

 

“So, only one solution to this. I can either stay by the door where there was _definitely_ some ghost things happening, or I can go deeper into the house and see whatever else is in here. Might as well, right? I mean, already in the hornet’s nest. Note; edit in a better metaphor when I get out of here.”

 

Something tinkled on the edges of her hearing, like a girl’s amused giggle; Blondie snapped her flashlight around like a weapon, eyes darting and phone held up at the ready. The giggling stopped and Blondie heard something skittering away. Either a ghost, or a raccoon. Maybe both? Hopefully both. Hopefully not a bear. Blondie began to walk forward into the unknown, her ragged panting audible in the utter silence. With the windows boarded up, it seemed less like a house and more like a tomb. She moved down a long, dark hallway and curiously looked at the walls for any pictures. To her disappointment, anything that had hung on the walls before had been taken down by a mysterious party; only peeling, stained wallpaper remained.

 

“Hello? Ghost person? Not to be rude but, can you, can you do something else now? Please?” Blondie shuddered. “No offense but I’d really rather know you’re, y’know, here. I don’t care for jump scares, okay? Not my thing!”

 

That giggle, again, and something fell to the ground with a crash. Blondie jumped, spat a curse, and followed the sound. The closer she got the worse the smell of the house became, like rotting meat and spoiled milk and--

 

“Oh my god, the bodies,” Blondie moaned aloud, gnawing on her lip. “Oh god what if they were never _recovered_. Ohhh, my god, what if they were stuffed into--into _suits_ , like _robots_ ; what do you think, viewers? Vote now on your phones! Bodies in the floorboards or bodies in robot animatronic suits.”

 

She was mostly rambling to keep from going into an all out panic. No one knew where she really was, after all; it could be days before someone realized that little Blondie Lockes had been a huge, raging idiot and went into a condemned house at night to try and find ghosts. All they would find would be a dead phone, and this would be the last bit of evidence showing that she died how she lived; rambling on about a video game and the reality of her situation. Which was being stalked by ghosts and also coming across the mutilated corpses of...

 

Blondie entered the kitchen, where the smell was strongest. An old bag with the faded golden arches sat on a little round table, a rotting, half eaten burger sitting on top of it. Aiming the light to an old style fridge and freezer revealed long spoiled meat and chunky milk sitting and staring at her.

 

“...Huh,” Blondie breathed. “Maybe it wasn’t bodies after all?”

 

She took a step forward, and something cracked under her foot. Squeaking, Blondie stepped back and looked down, seeing a child’s sized plate shattered into pieces.

 

“That must have been what fell,” Blondie murmured, then gasped. “I communicated with the ghost--ha! It communicated back! Oh man! Oh my god! Yes, yes, _yesss_ , viewers, I made contact!”

 

She turned her attention to the burger, however, and tilted her head.

 

“That’s only a few weeks old, though...so, how--”

 

Something long, sharp, and cold slid against her neck. Equally frigid breath ghosted against her ear and she smelled something clean, and fresh, and contrastingly _dead_ all at once. Something that didn’t belong near her, or on earth at all. Blondie went very, very still; her phone shook in her hand, her heart fell to the soles of her feet, and with her very last thought she prayed that the ghost took her quickly.

 

“Oh, man,” the ghost said, surprisingly cheerfully, “you’ve still got service?”

 

“Buwh,” Blondie sputtered, quite intelligently given the situation. “I--yeah.”

 

“Can you...can you get _internet_ out here?”

 

“Unlimited data,” Blondie said quietly. “I don’t need to connect to wifi to get it. So, uh, yeah. I guess.”

 

The cold and sharp _thing_ rolled around the front of her throat; fingers, ending in talons. Blondie stared straight ahead in the dark as the ghost pressed against her back, deathly cold lips near her ear.

 

“Can I check my Facebook,” the ghost whispered. “Pretty please?”

 

Blondie paused her recording. Saved it, and brought up the Facebook app on her phone. She signed out and held it limply in her fingers in offering.

 

“Oh, yay! Thank you so, so much!” Vicious looking claws swiped the device from her hand and the ghost moved away. “You are honestly the best visitor I’ve had in like, years. I’ll be really quick, I promise.”

 

Blondie whirled around with a yell, flashlight clenched in both hands, and pointed it at the specter who had taken her phone. It blinked back at her with bright blue eyes sunken in their sockets; clammy, dark skin plastered to their bones, with knobby joints. They didn’t have a nose--just thin little slits where a nose would have sat. Their skin, already a deep brown--though mottled grey, like a corpse--bled to a deep black at their hands, which ended in very sharp claws that delicately tapped and swiped at her phone. A thin tail whipped behind them, ending not in a demonic spade, but bloomed outward like a heart. Boney wings flexed from their shoulders, and their feet were as sharp and wrong looking as their hands. A tattered, off-white toga draped off of their emaciated body, which was oddly fitting in the end.

 

Overall; not exactly the kind of ghost Blondie had imagined. Maybe it wasn’t a ghost at all.

 

“Aw, Jules and Barkley are still together,” the demon said fondly, their mouth flashing with fangs. “I’m so happy for them! I knew they’d make a good couple.” A few more taps and Blondie stared as the creature offered her phone back to her, account disconnected. “Thanks, I just needed to check up on some things. It’s been a few years.”

 

Blondie stared. The thing stared back.

 

“Oh! Gosh, where are my manners. Hi! I’m Chariclo Arganthone Cupid, but that’s _kind_ of a mouthful and super, super Greek. You can just call me Cupid, if you want to. You’re--Blondie, right?”

 

“How do you know my name?” Blondie was proud of her voice for not cracking into a hysterical shout.

 

“Oh, I heard you uh, narrating to yourself? You were really into your little ghost show.” Cupid’s eyes lit up. “Ghosts are pretty territorial, though, so you’re lucky that I’m the only thing here.”

 

Silence reigned and Cupid began to fidget. She played with long, shockingly pink hair, and blinked at Blondie. She almost looked shy.

 

“So...yeah,” Cupid said, slowly. “I’m uh, sorry if I wasn’t what you were expecting? I tried my best but I really, really haven’t had anyone to talk to in years, and I just thought, that I could...talk with you. Was that not an okay thing? I’m a dummy, I probably shouldn’t have done all the _scary_ stuff first.” At the word _scary_ , Cupid wiggled the dangerous points of her fingers for added effect. “I went overboard playing ghost, didn’t I?”

 

“I mean,” Blondie tried, her brain completely leaving the station. “You were a very convincing ghost.”

 

Cupid clapped with delight. “I knew you enjoyed it! I’m a much better matchmaker than I am a ghost but, well, we do what we must!”

 

The situation was already well beyond whatever Blondie had been expected, so in reply Blondie simply nodded. A small fanged smile graced the creature--no, Cupid’s--face, almost kind of...nervous? Shy? Rows of teeth made it hard to tell if Blondie was being honest. The more she looked, however, the more real it was and after a moment of internally exploding from fear and excitement, Blondie’s curiosity took over.

 

“Y-you’re a matchmaker?”

 

“Well, alright I’ve been known to dabble here or there every century or so.” Cupid gave some kind of a shrug. “Mostly a hobby, really.”

 

“ _Century?_ ” Blondie’s voice broke on the word. “How old _are_ you?!”

 

“What year is it? Not a day over 9,000 at least.”

 

“You did _not_ just meme on me,” Blondie gasped out with a laugh.

 

“It’s not my fault humans are easily amused.” A kind smile reached Cupid’s eyes.

 

Blondie wiped a small tear and straightened herself.

 

“At the risk of sounding ignorant, what exactly are you?”

 

“Greek and Roman with little bit of Kenyan on my mother’s side, why?”

 

“I meant more, y’know, like…” Blondie paused and then vaguely gestured to all of Cupid with a hand. “ _What_ are you?”

 

“Well, back in the day the humans saw me as some form of demigoddess, or an offshoot creation of Echidna and Eros.” Cupid shrugged again. “To be frank, even _I_ don’t know what I am. I know I’m a shapeshifter, of a sort, at least.”

 

In the span of a blink, Cupid had vanished and instead a mirror image of Blondie was peering at her, leaning in a little too close. It was a perfect recreation, down to the little mole on the underside of Blondie’s own chin; she yelped, scrambled back, and nearly fell against the table. Watching herself smooth her own hair back and move forward to take her own hand was all kinds of mind boggling.

 

“Change back, change back,” Blondie said as Cupid did a little spin in place. _‘Do I really look like that from behind?’_

 

“Are you sure? You were frightened of me earlier.”  If that bothered Cupid, she certainly didn’t seem offended. Then again, Blondie was hearing herself speak to her, which made her dizzy, so she slammed her eyes shut to keep from completely flipping out. “I can be anything you want me to be, Blondie.”

 

“Just--be yourself! And not me, please!”

 

A thoughtful hum left Cupid, and with the muted sound of bones rearranging, and flesh rippling, she said, “How’s this?”

 

Blondie cracked open an eye. She didn’t see herself, or a skeletal beast with wings and a tail, but a girl about her age with brown skin dappled and freckled from the sun. Her hair was still very much pink, but full of wild curls that cascaded down her back, and the toga certainly fit a lot better now that there was meat to actually fill it out.

 

Wait, no. No filling of anything. Blondie felt her face heat up and Cupid giggled. Blondie coughed and thought of another question.

 

“Why are you here?” She asked, her eyes shifting away from Cupid’s new form for an entirely different reason. Blondie could feel piercing blue eyes searing through her but there wasn’t any malice there but amusement.

 

“Why are any of us here?” Cupid chuckled now at the glare she was receiving, “Again I don’t really know? I just go where the Fates take me. This place, y’know this specifically, is being pretty comfortable. Something about the air feels--”

 

“Different?” Blondie offered, looking as Cupid’s expression softened before she giggled.

 

“I was going to say lovely, but yes.”  

 

 _‘Do you get lonely here in this empty house?_ ’ Blondie thought to herself.

 

“Are you offering to take me home?” Cupid replied with a quirk of her eyebrow. Blondie gulped. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

 

“Well, I mean, Fates and whatever clearly brought me here to your door. Also my bike did, but that’s semantics.” Blondie tried for her most charming kind of smile, which was a little strained seeing as how she was also screaming at herself internally. “It’s...this place kind of, well, it reeks.”

 

“Yeah.” Cupid looked sheepish again, her expressions far more clearly articulated now that she had all the muscles necessary for it. “Sorry about that...I usually live upstairs and I don’t exactly come down that often.”

 

“I’d have to talk it all over with my mom, of course,” Blondie continued, already running the pitch for it in her head, “and you’d probably have to pretend to be your parents, or something, but we do have a spare room. I mean, do you have any luggage, or--”

 

“I am steeped with centuries worth of emotional baggage.” Cupid blinked at Blondie’s pained expression. “Oh! You meant clothes. No, this toga is about all I have and all I need. Oh, my, are you going to try and get me to go to high school? I’ve never been in high school! Oh, that’s exciting!”

 

“What--I mean, I guess?” Blondie shook her head. “That wasn’t exactly the first on my list of priorities, but...but if you want to, then I guess my dad can pull some strings?”

 

“Oh, this is going to absolutely fantastic!” Cupid exclaimed, rushing Blondie for a tight hug. Blondie patted her on the back since apparently this was her life now. Hello to her new normal. It was almost like a movie, the strangest kind of meeting.

 

“Oh, I do have some things to get from upstairs, though,” Cupid said, and with a groan she was back to the frightening specter that Blondie had first encountered. She leaped forward, skittering along the wall on hands and feet which was so utterly terrifying that Blondie had to sit down on the table and try to remember how to breathe.

 

“Holy moley,” Blondie whispered, pressing her trembling hand to the back of her forehead. That explained the scary crawling noises she’d heard before, at least. Though she didn’t know if it was comforting to realize that Cupid had get-an-old-priest-and-a-young-priest-exorcism’d her way around the walls and Blondie had never thought to look up, or that it was Cupid all along and not an actual demon thirsting for her blood.

 

Speaking of thirst, though. Blondie wished she had thought ahead and bought a bottle of water, or something. Her mouth and throat were dry and she was weary to the core; probably from all the adrenaline, and the biking.

 

Reality began to sink in; she really had nowhere to sleep now that she had to bring Cupid along with her. It wasn’t like she could go to Ashlynn, or Briar, and say _hey so, funny story_. And she couldn’t sneak home either, not when her pitch relied on having met Cupid--homeless, and all alone in the world--at a bus stop on her way back from Ashlynn’s.

 

Cupid dropped down in front of her, and didn’t it say everything that she wasn’t even afraid anymore?

 

“I got them,” she said, proudly, opening her hands. A necklace of gold, where a lone, shining crystal hung for decoration; a silver bladed knife with a marble handle, an etching of Greek gods into the smooth stone; and a simple ring.

 

Blondie looked up. “Is that...all you’re bringing?”

 

“They’re all I need,” Cupid replied. “I can shift into whatever I need, clothing wise--though modesty is _such_ a modern invention--and I don’t really need money seeing as how I don’t need to eat. These, though, I...I couldn’t live without them.” She spoke and her voice carried a note of longing, and sorrow; Blondie’s heart ached.

 

“Aw, man. I’m...sorry, Cupid.” Blondie didn’t know what for, but it felt necessary nonetheless. “I’ve got some bad-ish news, though. I uh...I can’t really, go back home tonight, not with you. My mom doesn’t even know I’m here.”

 

Cupid tilted her head, then smiled. With a mouth full of shark’s teeth and eyes that flared red in the flickers of a flashlight, it was far less comforting than how it was probably intended. Something really stupid in Blondie’s mind still went, ‘aw, cute’ at it, though, which sparked an entirely new plethora of questions she wasn’t ready to tackle yet.

“Is that you’re way of asking me, then?”

 

“Asking you what?”

 

Cupid shifted back into a more human appearance, all dark skin and bright eyes. “Asking to share a bed with me. Isn’t there a custom against that on the first date?”

 

Blondie choked on spit she didn’t even have. Cupid laughed as she sputtered, took her hand, and lead her upstairs. The second floor was just as dusty and cluttered as the first, but Blondie began to smell something sweet--burning candles, or incense--and when Cupid pushed open a door, she saw a room decorated in mostly shades of pink. The wallpaper still peeled, and the rugs were still ratty and torn, but it was quite clean and it didn’t reek of dust. The bed wasn’t made properly--mostly it was just all fabric, made to cocoon yourself in and snuggle down for the night--but it looked nice and soft and perfect for resting. At Cupid’s encouraging, she took off her jacket, hung it up on the foot of the bed, toed off her heels, and collapsed face first into it.

 

It was just as soft as she’d expected. Blondie let out a little sigh and listened to Cupid shift, blowing out the candles before moving to the bed as well. She left one alight, and Blondie cracked open an eye to watch her.

 

Cupid’s back faced her, so all she saw was curly pink hair being swept over a shoulder to reveal dark skin and even darker tattoos, intricate and swirling over her shoulder-blades. A pair of wings, Blondie realized quickly, before Cupid leaned forward and blew out the final candle, plunging them both into the dark.  

 

“Should I wake you in the morning?” Cupid’s voice was against her ear, which made her jump for a third time that night. “Sorry!”

 

“I-it’s alright! And, yeah, a little before five. That’ll probably give us enough time to put the plan into action.” Blondie lapsed into silence, before murmuring, “I’m...pretty sure it’ll work. You getting to stay with us.”

 

“If the Fates decide it, then it will be so,” Cupid replied, which made her sound quite old. Blondie made a face and was glad the dark hid her expression, but from the soft giggles that left Cupid, she had a feeling the girl knew anyway. “I’m really hoping it works too. It would be a fun new adventure, living with humans again in this age, and getting to go to highschool.”

 

Blondie turned her face into the coolness of the pillow, and sighed. “Cross your fingers, then. Goodnight, Cupid.”

 

“Goodnight.” Silence, comfortable and full of anticipation, stretched between them. After a moment, as if testing to make sure she was asleep, Cupid whispered, “Blondie?”

 

“Y-yeah?”

 

A beat. “No one has…” Cupid paused again. “When I told someone that I could be whatever they wanted, no one ever told me to just...be me. So thank you very much, for finally giving me a first _something_ in such a long, long time.”

  
In the dark, Blondie found Cupid’s hand, and squeezed it. “No problem,” she said on instinct, not sure how to respond to that revelation. “Thanks for being such a good ghost.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things escalate quickly

The dull sound of her phone buzzing in a tangle of sheets is what woke Blondie up first. She opened her eyes to darkness and the lingering smell of scented candles. This was definitely not her bedroom; her bed faced the windows where the sunlight could filter gently though blue, sheer curtains, and warm her face as she greeted the day.

 

She was also sore in the distinct way that came from sleeping in someone else’s bed. It wasn’t just right at all. Wiping at her eyes and groaning, she tried to sit up and fumble for her still buzzing phone, and promptly froze as the rest of the situation finally caught up to her brain and promptly whacked it with a baseball bat.

 

Cupid’s arms were still locked tight around her waist, and her warm breath ghosted against the back of her neck. Blondie still had her tanktop and all the other essentials on, but she didn’t feel the lumpy, twisted fabric of Cupid’s toga.

 

“Oh, no,” she whispered, voice tight. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

 

Cupid shifted behind her with an unhappy noise. Blondie’s phone stopped buzzing for three seconds, and then promptly continued with a vengeance. Either her alarm--good!--or her mother calling--very, very bad. She had to wake Cupid up. Praying that she at least got an arm in the fumble, Blondie reached back and lightly patted at the girl wrapped around her.

 

Her brain short circuited for a moment as her palm landed against the bare skin of Cupid’s hip.

 

“Ah,” Blondie squeaked. “Of course. You don’t have any nightclothes.”

 

“I’m also very Greek,” Cupid sleepily rumbled against the crook of her neck. “Good morning.”

 

“Hi yes, good morning, you’re very naked! I mean! I need my phone. Right now.” Blondie could feel the blood in her face and the heat it brought, and honestly it wasn’t like the house was very well ventilated. She was starting to get sweaty in more places than just her palms.

 

“That’s what that buzzing was,” Cupid mumbled, shifting and reaching over Blondie as her arm stretched--literally her arm extended--over to the device. “Good thing you set your alarm. I was so comfortable I might have just slept here for eternity. Haven’t shared a bed since Marilyn.”

 

Blondie had to do a double take at that. “Monroe? Oh my god, you shared a bed with Marilyn Monroe!”

 

Cupid’s giggle was just shy of naughty. “Among other things.” She gave Blondie her phone and rose, the distinct sounds of her body morphing following. “I’ll light a few candles.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Blondie said, making sure to keep her back turned to Cupid as she swiped on her phone. Then, she promptly shrieked, which startled Cupid into jumping for the ceiling and hanging on it like some kind of freaky hot spider. “Oh, oh crap! I just set my _school_ alarm!”

 

“Which means…?”

 

Blondie looked up at Cupid, who saw the look of fear in her eyes.

 

“My mom is going to kill me.”  

 

Cupid hopped down from her spot, now fully clothed, and giggled.

 

“I doubt it. Human parents usually don’t go through with it. Now my mom sent me to Hell for a weekend. It was a lot colder than expected.” Cupid paused and Blondie didn’t laugh. Sheepishly, she rubbed a hand against the back of her neck, “I was joking.”

 

Blondie blinked. “O-oh! Haha?”  

 

“Don’t patronize me.” Cupid glowered, her smile not reaching her eyes which caused Blondie to flinch. “Alright. So, to school then?”

 

“No,” Blondie replied with a shake of her head. It was better for her to go with her original plan. She’d just have to tweak it a bit to get it right, “I’m taking you home--stop wiggling your eyebrows--and I’ll explain the situation. That way I can get a change of clothes and get you something else to wear.”

 

It took little time for them to collect their things and head downstairs. Now that there was light in the building, however dim, Blondie saw a door in the kitchenette she hadn’t noticed before while it had been dark. They exited and Blondie found her bike still out front...which lead to a bit of a problem. She couldn’t carry two people, especially not uphill, and she didn’t trust herself to be able to get home with Cupid sitting on the handlebars.

 

Cupid seemed to sense her worry and, in what was becoming an all too familiar sound of shifting bones, she transformed herself into a mouse. Blondie was surprised at the utter lack of surprise, and kneeled down to scoop her up.

 

“Can you still talk like that?” Blondie asked and breathed out a sigh of relief at the squeak confirming a no. “Thank god. If you could talk as a mouse too, I might have freaked out again.”

 

She tucked Cupid away into the front pocket of her jacket and took off. Now that it was daylight, and it wouldn’t look _as_ suspicious for her to be out and about, Blondie took the more direct path home, pedaling as fast as she dared. She was dreading what her mom would say, or how she was going to manage to get to school even remotely close on time, but Blondie was an optimist. She had a sleepover with a shapeshifting, centuries old lonely girl and solved the mystery of the ‘most haunted’ location in Afterever Hills.

 

And she still had ten percent battery left! All in all, it was a victory!

 

She cruised into the cul de sac she called home and let out an out and out holler at the sight of an empty driveway. Dad always left around seven, and while her mother didn’t have to go to work until eight, sometimes she liked to leave a little early to catch up on end of the month paperwork. Pulling out her set of house keys, she hit the button for the garage door and rode right on in.

 

“Okay,” Blondie wheezed, fishing Cupid out of her pocket and setting her down. “Coast is clear. I think my mom went to work early today.

 

Cupid shot up with a pout.  “That’s a real shame. I was looking forward to meeting her.”

 

“All in due time!” Blondie unlocked the door leading into the house and waved her new friend in. “Make yourself at home! Right now I’ve gotta shower and get ready for school.”

 

Cupid was already examining the pictures of Blondie’s family hanging upon the walls, and turned her head at the last word. Her smile was small, but it edged on wicked.

 

“Shared bathing isn’t a thing anymore, is it,” Cupid asked with faux innocence. “Such a _shame_.”

 

“Uh.” Blondie felt her face go very, very warm, and it wasn’t just the exertion of a hard bike ride. “Y-you, you have a good--there’s cereal in the pantry,” she said at last, already backpedaling to the stairs. “M-Milk in the fridge! Help yourself, I’m gonna--just uh--”

 

Blondie took the stairs two at a time in her haste to escape what was slowly becoming a horribly awkward conversation. Call her a coward, but she just wasn’t used to cute girls flirting with her--much less cute girls who also happened to be a supernatural being. Blondie thought hard about that in the shower, and the reality of it started to sink in. Cupid wasn’t _human_. She talked about her Fates, and being worshipped as a _demigoddess_ at one point. She’d knocked boots with Marilyn freakin’ Monroe! And, on occasion, she looked like a terrifying nightmare creature straight out of a Clive Barker movie.

 

But, she was also exceptionally lonely and had never gone to highschool. How bad could she really be, Blondie mused to herself. If anything, if she could manage to get Cupid enrolled into Afterever High, Cupid might have to watch out for the rest of the student body. Seniors could be _vicious_.

 

Usually Blondie took time to make sure she utilized the perfect aesthetic look for school, but she didn’t have the time for that. A soft, gauzy blouse and a pair of jeans with blue ballet flats would have to do. She’d let her phone charge while showering, and she snagged it and her book bag from the floor and hurried down the stairs as she dialed Ashlynn, hoping she could catch a ride.

 

Ashlynn picked up on the third ring, clearly surprised. “Blondie?”

 

“Hey, Ash!” Blondie bounced on her feet as she swung into the kitchen, stopping as she watched Cupid open up all the cupboards and prod at the microwave, clearly mystified. “Um, I kind of overslept. Can I get a ride?”

 

“Man, you have incredible timing. Hunter just picked me up; we’ll swing over in a bit.”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” Blondie shouted, before wincing. “I mean, yay! Mom left early and I really didn’t want to bike it--”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Ashlynn laughed over the line. “It’s no problem. We’re happy to hel--” Blondie heard a deeper voice say something. “--Hunter says hi--we’re happy to help. See you in a bit.”

 

“Yep! Later!” Blondie hung up and slid her phone into her pocket. “Okay, so, I’ve got to go to school and--you can’t exactly come with. I’m really, really sorry, but only students are allowed on campus, and--”

 

Cupid merely raised a brow, and then shrunk in a whirl of limbs and cloth. A mouse scampered up to Blondie’s feet a moment later with a haughty sort of squeak, if mice could be haughty that is.

 

“I don’t think I could get away with bringing a pet to school, Cupid. Principal Grimm is already giving me the stink eye as it is--” Cupid squeaked in protest. “--Okay! Okay, yes, but you have to stay in my purse and stay really quiet.” She kneeled down and let Cupid scurry in with a sigh. By the time she’d risen up and closed all of the cabinets, she heard someone pull into her driveway. Ashlynn sent her a text a second later, confirming that she was outside, and Blondie hurried, making sure to keep from jostling her purse too badly.

 

“Morning, Blondie,” Hunter Hunstman greeted from the driver’s seat. His hair was slicked back and he wore tight jeans, a white t-shirt tucked in, and a black (faux) leather vest over it.

 

“I thought you were dressing up too,” Ashlynn said as Blondie settled into the back, her auburn hair twisted into a cute ponytail, adjusting a light green ascot. Her poodle skirt was the same, minty color, with songbirds stitched into the hem.

 

“...Oh!” Blondie buckled herself in, wincing. “ _Right_ , god, Spirit Week...I’m so sorry, Ashlynn, I forgot all about it.”

 

“That’s alright,” Ashlynn replied with a bright smile. She reached into her own purse and brought out a granola bar, offering it over. “If you overslept then you haven’t had breakfast, right?”

 

“I haven’t.” Blondie’s stomach chose that point to grumble, and she took the offered snack, digging in. She broke off a few pieces and slid them into her purse for Cupid to nibble on, and the soft, fuzzy little body brushing against her fingers let her know that the shapeshifter was grateful.

 

Hunter backed his car out of the space and they were soon on their way to Afterever High. Blondie let her head rest against the window, fingers still grazing against Cupid’s little side as she watched the scenery pass her by, her thoughts racing just as fast. If Cupid could exist in the world, then surely there were more like her. Like werewolves! Or vampires!

 

Blondie wiggled in her seat, biting on her lip to hide her smile. Ashlynn and Hunter were engrossed in morning smalltalk, and didn’t notice. Once the iron gates of Afterever High crested over the hill, Blondie felt herself relax even further.

 

The school had once been a boarding house, as far as Blondie had researched. The central building was huge, towering with four magnificent floors and classic university architecture. The dormitory buildings on either side had been torn down many, many years ago, and replaced with a science and arts hall and a giant library. The sprawling courtyard had benches and tables scattered about for students who preferred to take their lunch outside, and a huge white marble fountain in the center was a popular spot for couples and class photos. Hunter drove the car into the back where student and faculty parking was located. As they exited the vehicle, two people on a motorcycle pulled in two spots down.

 

They both wore fake leather jackets that had _O’hair_ stitched on the back, braids and scissors decorating the sleeves. The driver had decided on a poodle skirt, bright pink with a pair of black birds--swans, Blondie noticed with a wry grin-- chasing each other up to her hips. The other girl had abstained from Spirit Day dress up, settling on a faded pink flared jersey skirt and pink pullover combo.

 

They each tugged their helmets off to reveal the faces of twin girls with dark orange hair and freckles dancing on their cheeks. One had her hair cropped short, dyed a bright purple--and slicked back, like Hunter’s--and the other’s ginger locks tumbled in glossy waves to the back of her thighs, one cowlick giving a signature curl above her left ear.

 

“Morning Poppy, Holly!” Ashlynn greeted them. The duo waved back with a smile before Poppy’s attention was caught by a shrill voice coming from the entrance. There stood one of the school’s most gorgeous girls, Duchess Swan. Dressed in a black and white polka dot poodle skirt with lacy white stockings that gave way to a pair of shiny, monochrome saddle shoes. She was tapping her foot impatiently when Poppy ran forward and pulled her into a spinning hug. The four of them let out an “Awww!” at the display.

 

Duchess could be heard scolding her girlfriend quietly as they entered the building. Holly gave a tinkling laugh as she joined the group of three, the beads hanging from her neck clicking with each gentle sway.

 

“Duchess hates it when Poppy rides the bike,” Holly explained. “Or so she says. I think she just gets jealous when she’s not the one riding with her.”

 

“Sounds like Duchess,” Ashlynn sighed, half exasperated and half endeared. There’d been some drama between Ashlynn, Hunter, and Duchess back in sophomore year but that was all water under the bridge. Well, mostly.

 

Holly turned her spring green eyes to Blondie. “So, what about that article you wanted me to proofread?”

 

“Huh?” Blondie wracked her brain for the answer before gulping loudly. She’d intended to draft a blog post after walking through the old haunted house and attach the video to it; Holly, editor of the school newspaper and beta-reader for Blondie’s blog, had been set to go over it with a fine toothed comb. Neither of which happened, obviously, considering that Blondie hadn’t written anything yet and she certainly hadn’t touched the recording on her phone.

 

“About that,” Blondie laughed nervously, “uh, change of plans? I had to, to...uh…”

 

“Work on your world history paper,” Ashlynn chimed in, and her eyes narrowed. Blondie could see the gears turning in her head. “Which you did. Right, Blondie?”

 

“I...sure started it,” Blondie lied. She made a show of checking her phone and gasping, adding, “Oh gosh would you look at the time! Time to! Leave this conversation, love you Ash, _later!_ ”

 

Blondie escaped with a spin and a dash, trying not to think about how routine this was becoming. She could hear soft, squeaking laughter from her purse.

 

“Don’t laugh,” she hissed to the occupant within, “Don’t be that guy, Cupid!”

 

The day was shorter than normal due the assembly being held in the last half of the day. It mostly passed without much incident until lunch, at least. The call of nature rang and Blondie snuck off to answer it, choosing an unused girl’s room on the second floor and putting her purse in the opposite stall.

 

“Just--like, hang up there for a bit,” she whispered, flushing. “Need privacy.”

 

Moments later, freshened up and her dignity saved, Blondie grabbed her purse and looked inside. Expecting to see an amused rodent, her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw nothing but candy wrappers, her phone, emergency makeup essentials, and her wallet.

 

“Cupid?” Her voice went up an octave. Had Cupid fallen out of her purse during class? Panic flooded her limbs, and Blondie backed out of the stall in a stumble. “Oh no, no, Cupid--”

 

She yelped when she turned around, a girl with long legs and cropped, platinum white hair checking her make up in the mirror. She slowly met Cupid’s gaze in the mirror, arching a dark brow as she locked bright, forest green with Blondie’s own blue. Bronze skin, peppered with vitiligo, rippled over lean muscles as she slowly turned.

 

A sense of deja vu ran down Blondie’s spine, but she ignored it.

 

“Talking to yourself,” the girl asked, her rich voice carrying obscenely loud in the quiet bathroom. “That’s a little weird.”

 

“I--when did you even--” Blondie stared, rooted to the spot.

 

Then the tension broke as the girl laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. When she blinked, Cupid’s eyes stared out from behind a stranger’s face. “Blondie, it’s me!”

 

“You…” Blondie reached out and gave her a swat on the arm. “You _jerk!_ Oh my god, I thought you were lost! I thought you’d like, dropped out of my purse or something! And did you have to eat all of my Starbursts, those were for emergencies!”

 

Cupid had the decency to shrug with a coy smile. “I got hungry. Sue me after we go to this assembly thing.” She gave Blondie a roguish wink. “Do you like this form? I caught a glimpse of her during your arithmetic class. She’s very cute.”

 

“Don’t--don’t hit on me when you look like one of my classmates who I don’t even--are you sure she’s in my class?”

 

“Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep during class, you’d be a little more observant.”

 

Blondie flushed to her ears. “Shut--shut up. Oh my god. Let’s just go to the stupid thing.”  

 

Blondie exited the bathroom with Cupid on her heels. At some point Cupid had wrapped her arms around Blondie’s. Blondie wrote it off as not wanting to get separated as they were soon amidst the large crowd that was the student body. Blondie immediately found her preferred spot which was saved by Ashlynn and Hunter. They had found the spot during their freshmen year,  right in the middle of everything with a perfect view of the events.

 

It was during the cheerleading routine that Blondie noticed Cupid (who had not let go of her arm yet) kept looking over her shoulder.

 

“Cupid, what’s wrong?”

 

“Are you sure I’m the first magical being you’ve come across?”

 

Well that was an odd question.

 

“Yes?” Blondie replied and tried to think of any other encounters. Most of what she worked with were theories at best and rumors at the least. “Why?”

 

“There’s a girl staring at me pretty intently and I don’t think she’s interested in what I’m offering.”

 

Blondie followed her gaze and found Raven Queen glaring at them. With her smoky, dark makeup and her violet eyes, the effect was slightly intimidating.

 

“Can I help you?” Blondie said rudely causing Raven to blink. A blush ran over her pale cheeks.

 

“Sorry, I just really like your friend’s style?” She sounded unsure as if something else had really caught her attention. “It’s like something I’ve never seen before.”

 

Cupid’s disguise wasn’t all that much; a faded band t-shirt, and jean capris with worn sneakers. Compared to Raven Queen’s usual style of dark colors, ripped skinny jeans, and a purple kaliko lace top, the lie was obvious.

 

“Well it’s rude to stare, you know,” Blondie clipped, and turned her back to Raven once more. Her heart was still racing in her chest, even as she felt Cupid settle against her side. Watching the drama club perform about Afterever High’s football team crushing the opposing side in a Grease style musical wasn’t distraction enough; she could still feel Raven’s eyes boring holes in the back of her head.

 

It was weird; Raven was always an antisocial type, though her poetry and songwriting talents had gained school-wide fame. Antisocial, and quite docile honestly.

 

Cupid leaned closer to whisper in her ear as the sketch concluded, the marching band coming in for the school song. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “I’ll keep you safe.”

 

From what, Blondie wanted to ask, but lost the thought quickly. Maybe she was just overthinking it; she barely knew Raven, and Cupid didn’t know her at all. School dismissed them early and Cupid snuck back into her purse once they could make their escape to the bathroom. She caught a ride with Hunter and Ashlynn again, though she asked to be brought to the closest bus stop instead of her house.

 

“I’ve got some errands to run,” Blondie said, gripping her purse’s strap. “Lets meet up at Starbucks a little later? I really do need help on my paper.”

 

Ashlynn gave her a winsome smile. “Of course. I’ll text Briar and see if she wants to join in; if I know anything about that girl, she’s probably put it off just like you. Just make sure you don’t bring your blog research this time!”

 

Blondie resisted the urge to hide her purse and the actual, living research that lay within. “I won’t, I won’t! Come on, just hit the road. I’ll see you later tonight.”

 

“Stay safe,” Hunter cautioned her, reaching out with an arm to give Blondie a half hug. “Call if you need a ride home, okay?”

 

Blondie gave him a pat on the cheek, looking at Ashlynn. “You’ve got a keeper, Ash.”

 

“Don’t I know it.” As Hunter flustered under the compliments and attention, Blondie said her goodbyes and made like she was walking in the opposite direction toward the grocery. Hunter and Ashlynn drove off, and once the coast was clear, Cupid quickly took shape and stretched her limbs. She’d kept the band t-shirt and capri combo, but it was comforting to finally see her familiar face.

 

“You okay?” Blondie searched her friend’s face for any discomfort. “Do you like...do you feel any weird pains from being stuck as a mouse for so long, or--”

 

Cupid waved her off with a smile. “I’m alright, I promise. I’ve been in worse forms and in far less comforting company. Speaking of company, though, are you aware that most of your school friends are magical in nature? I haven’t been in such a hotspot since New Orleans, in the 20's.”

 

“ _Really?_ “ Blondie’s eyes went wide. “You can sense them?”

 

“Naturally,” Cupid replied, rolling her shoulders, “as they could no doubt feel me too.”

 

“Do we have vampires?! _Werewolves?!_ ”

 

“Vampires, no. Werewolves, yes.” Cupid didn’t elaborate at Blondie’s pleading look. “I’m not just going to out them, Blondie. That’s rude. Aren’t you going to take me home, now? I’m really excited to meet your mother.”

 

The transparent change of subject made Cupid’s stance very clear, and Blondie accepted it with a sigh and a shrug. “Yes, yes, of course. Just let me do the talking, okay? I’m sure they’ll take you in, but it might take a little more to get my dad to help you enroll. I mean, if you even can--you probably don’t have any of the paperwork we’d need. No birth certificate, or even a social security number…” Blondie’s head spun. “Oh, man, how are we gonna pull this _off._

 

“Can I see your phone? I’m gonna make a call.”

 

Blondie handed over the device and Cupid tapped in a number. She pressed it to her ear and let it ring. When a voice that sounded like the screams of a thousand dying souls answered, Cupid just smiled. 

 

“Mama, it’s me. Yes, I know, I haven’t called or contacted you. Some asshole thought it’d be funny to put holy water in the mirrors after the last break in in New York in the 80's--Blondie did you know that Ghostbusters is based on a true story?--what, no mom I’m with a friend. _No_ , not that kind of friend.”

 

Blondie watched in awe as Cupid’s English slowly dissolved into some undead language full of grunts and insensible chatter and then , “Yes, mom, I love you too. Talk to you soon, kisses!”

 

And with that Cupid hung up and handed it back Blondie.

 

“We should be good now! My mom’ll send the documents I need to get wherever I need to go.”  Cupid held out her phone. Blondie’s ears were still ringing from the horrible screeching she had heard on the other end, and looked at her phone as if it would rear back and bite her throat out.

 

“Is my…” Blondie trailed off. “Is my phone cursed now?”

 

“No,” Cupid said, patiently, as if she had expected the response. “The reception was great, though.”

 

“Is that going to affect my data? I don’t think I have phone calls to another dimension covered.”

 

This made Cupid laugh, and she reached out to press Blondie’s phone into her hand. “You’re _fine_ , I promise. By the way, my mom says hi.”

 

“Am _I_ high,” Blondie asked suddenly. “Is this a really long, thought out, extended trip? Maybe I’m hallucinating.”

 

Cupid bounced her brows. “Want me to give you a pinch?”

 

“I’m good,” Blondie yelped, shoving her phone in her purse. “We’re going to my house now, where you’re getting your own room and everything. You flirt so much I can never tell if it’s genuine, or what.”

 

“You’ll know when it’s for real,” Cupid purred into her ear, suddenly closer than anyone had the right to be. “I’ll make that _abundantly_ clear for my little human.”

 

“Oh, wow! Stop!” Blondie covered her face with both hands and stormed for home, Cupid’s laughter chasing her. They ribbed and joked with each other on the way, and it felt as close to normal as anything in the last 48 hours. Cupid’s hand found hers and Blondie gripped it tight, swinging their linked hands between them.  

 

She felt her phone buzz wildly in her purse, and when Blondie looked inside to check it she found a pile of paperwork instead. A fake birth certificate, a transcript from a high school that Blondie was certain didn’t exist, a driver’s license, an ID--Blondie looked up to see Cupid peeking over her shoulder with a grin.

 

“That was fast,” Cupid said, smiling wide. “Mom was pretty thorough, too. She’s more caught up in the times than I am!”

 

Blondie thought about pursuing it further--asking how all of it had piled into her purse in the first place--but decided she would fight that battle another day. She had to focus on getting her parents to take Cupid in, after all.

 

She left the story up to Cupid; for Blondie’s part, they’d met at the bus stop and that was that. Actually walking up the driveway and unlocking her front door brought on the nerves that Blondie had been trying to ignore, and her hand shook as she put her key into the lock. She opened the door, and the smell of roasted ham hit went straight to her gut. Swallowing, Blondie called out, “Mom, Dad, I’m home! And I, ah, I brought a friend.”

 

She closed the door as she heard the telltale squeal of metal as her father folded up the recliner and came to meet her, instantly curious. Her pops was built like a bear; broad shouldered with a thick, gold beard streaked in silver. His hair was thin and his hairline receding, and he’d certainly put on the weight, but he’d never lost the spark of good cheer in his eyes that Blondie had known all her life. Said eyes landed on Cupid and he smiled widely.

 

“Well, hello there,” he boomed, moving forward to offer Cupid a wide, calloused hand. “Barry Lockes. It’s nice to meet you, miss--”

 

“Cupid,” was the sweet reply as she shook his hand back. “Just call me Cupid.”

 

Goldianna “Goldie” Lockes poked her head out of the kitchen, her curly bob bouncing. “Blondie, you know the rules; you need to call before you bring over a guest.” She smiled. “I would have set the table for four! I hope you like ham, sweetie.”

 

“I love ham,” Cupid replied easily. “Thank you so much.”

 

“Nonsense! Blondie likes to shut herself in her room so much that any new friend is welcome here.”

 

“Mom,” Blondie whined. Barry chuckled and ruffled her hair, a hand on both of their shoulders to steer them into the kitchen. Blondie moved to help her mother set Cupid’s spot at the table and took the moment to try and set up the approach. “Mom,” she said, softly, “I’m about to ask you for a...really, really big favor.”

 

“Oh?” Goldie took note of her lowered, serious voice and leaned in. “Is your new friend in trouble?”

 

“W-wh--” Blondie gaped a little. “Yes--I mean, no, um, it’s not my story to tell? How did you…”

 

“You never break the rules with company, Blondie,” her mother replied. “And you’ve never mentioned a Cupid before. I’m an insurance agent, honey. I can sense these things out.”

 

Some of the weight Blondie had been carrying seemed have disappeared. Maybe asking what she needed to ask wasn’t going to be so hard.

 

“So I met her on the way home and she told me she didn’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t know the whole story but I was wondering--”

 

“If she could stay with us for a while?” Goldie finished, her expression softening at her daughter’s kindness. Blondie merely nodded, blushing lightly at her mother’s proud look. “Well, if you don’t mind me grilling her a bit to make sure she’s not some kind of monster, then I suppose we could clean out the guest room.”

 

Dinner was served quickly; Cupid’s story was that she had been traveling a long time on her own after the sad loss of both of her parents, trying to avoid a variety of angry and unhealthy family members until she was of age. Yes, she had a driver’s license--yes, she could work, yes she fully intended to enroll in school, she had no history of drug use, and she was truly blessed to have met Blondie. Cupid was a fairly good actress and an even better story teller; Blondie was almost convinced that her story was true, and had she not spent the night previous with Cupid, she might have been fooled too.

 

It convinced her mother and her father, in any case. When Cupid mentioned that she had no spare clothes or a phone-- “Most of my stuff was caught in a pretty bad fire…”--Blondie watched her parents exchange a solid, secret look.

 

It said, _we’re not letting her back out this house_. Blondie bit her smile away as Barry kindly informed her that she was free to stay as long as she liked, and that he’d help set up her new bedroom. Goldie added that she was free to borrow some of old things until they could go shopping on the weekend.

 

“I’ll get a job as soon as I’m in school,” Cupid said softly. “I don’t intend to freeload here.”

 

“It is absolutely not a necessity,” Goldie argued. “You’re so young, trying to get on your feet again. Let us help you, sugar.”

 

“I-I will. I’d just feel better if I was doing my part too.” Whether the tears Cupid brushed away were real or fake, Blondie couldn’t tell; but the way she melted into her mother’s embrace and clung, just a bit, reminded Blondie that Cupid hadn’t seen her own parents in quite a long time.

 

“Cupid and I were going to hang out with Ashlynn for a little bit, work on some homework,” Blondie said after dinner had been finished. “If that’s okay?”

 

Goldie nodded her head. “Alright. But no sleeping over again, you hear? You let Ashlynn’s mom drive you home, or you call me.”

 

“Y-yes ma’am.”

 

Soon after Blondie found herself outside of Starbucks, Cupid at her side. She sent the girl a victorious smile, nudging her with an elbow. “So, roomie,” she teased, “ready to take on the world?”

 

Cupid covered her mouth and giggled into her palm, her eyes misty. “Yes,” she said, almost tenderly. “I think I really am. Thank you for all of this, Blondie. I...I’ve never felt so welcome in a long time.”

 

Blondie’s heart swelled against her ribs and she linked arms with her friend. “Well, better get ready, cause this welcome wagon doesn’t stop until you’re in the squad.”

 

“The--the squad?”

 

“Come on!” Blondie tugged Cupid through the door and spotted Ashlynn sitting in the corner, securing the outlets. The lack of Briar disappointed her only a little--Briar loved to meet new people, seeing them as a gateway to a new experience, new stories, someone that would eagerly feed into Cupid’s curious nature--but Ashlynn was the most grounded of them all, and after such a hectic rush of hours, Blondie knew that the girl was just what the doctor ordered.

 

“Hello,” Ashlynn greeted politely as Cupid and Blondie sat at the table. “I’m Ashlynn Ella.”

 

Cupid introduced herself quietly, and they shook hands. Both of them went very, very still, and Cupid’s eyes narrowed. Ashlynn went a little pale; recognition flickered in both of their eyes, and when they released their hands tension had settled over the table like a shroud. Blondie was utterly confused by it, and dreading something wrong spoiling what was turning out to be a fantastic night, pulled out her binder and set it down on the table.

 

“So!” She grinned a tad desperately. “How about that paper!”

 

“P-paper--oh.” Ashlynn gave Cupid another searching stare before shaking her head. “Of course, yes, let’s uh. Let’s get started on that. Let me look at your outline…”

 

An hour of homework and smalltalk passed between the three of them--or rather, Blondie talked to Cupid and Ashlynn. Finally, unable to stand the strange, negative energy that had blossomed, Blondie called an end. “I think Cupid and I are just gonna head home,” Blondie said, putting away her half finished paper. “It’s been a pretty long day.”

 

Ashlynn’s hand landed on top of her own. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

 

Blondie blinked. “What--no? I’m just going to call my mom.”

 

“She’s worried I’ll eat you up,” Cupid said calmly, her voice low. “Or I’ll disturb the cinders.”

 

“Huh,” Blondie said, just as Ashlynn hissed, “ _Shut up._ ”

 

“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Cupid continued, her voice growing colder with each word. “I’m genuinely insulted you’d think I’d stoop so low as to hurt someone as good natured and kind as her. I’m going to _protect_ her. And as for you, I have no intention of disrupting your life. I wouldn’t be so cruel.”

 

Ashlynn looked guilty after a moment, and released a shaking breath. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I think...I think I believe you.”

 

“Can we? Pause?” Blondie looked between the two of her friends, trying to decipher what was going on between them. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she looked at the situation, the truth remained suspended over her head. “What are the two of you _talking_ about?”

 

Cupid gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing, Blondie. Let’s get outside.”

 

Blondie looked to Ashlynn, startled to see the same expression. “She’s right,” Ashlynn said. “You should be getting home. I’m going to call my mom, too.”

 

“...Alright,” Blondie said after another tense moment. “I...okay.”

 

The three of them stood up, and Blondie stood between Cupid and Ashlynn, thoroughly confused. She could feel them sending each other looks over her head. She had to walk slowly, as if she was a human shield between her equally human friend and her...not so human friend. It was holding up customer traffic; someone trailed behind them, grumbling low beneath his breath. What was going _on?_ On minute, Blondie had been enjoying the thrill of victory. The next...this.

 

It was enough to make a girl sick, all this emotional whiplash; Blondie felt quite guilty, and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Ashlynn and Cupid had met or shared some history. Right? It was impossible.

 

They left the Starbucks and stood at the street corner. Blondie reached into her purse, and her fingers grazed her phone case just as Ashlynn sucked in a harsh breath.

 

“Don’t you dare scream,” came the hiss of breath. “I’ve got a gun.”

 

 _Oh my god,_ Blondie thought, just as Cupid’s hand seized her elbow. They turned, very slowly. The man who had slunk behind them in the coffee shop had an arm wrapped around Ashlynn’s shoulders, a pocket knife shining against her jumping pulse. A firearm shaped bulge stood out against the pocket of his all black hoodie, and Blondie watched him reach in and palm it.

 

“The alley,” the man grated, jerking a head in the direction. “Walk down it. Slowly,” he added in a snarl, jerking the blade higher up Ashlynn’s neck, “or I start cutting.”

 

“Don’t,” Ashlynn said, her voice shaking but level in volume. “Blondie, _run_. Just run. I’m going to be okay.”

 

“Are you _kidding me?_ ” Blondie whisper shouted, feeling the sick rolling of her gut. “I’m not leaving you! H-he could, he might--”

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Ashlynn tried again. “Please, Blondie, just go to the police, and--”

 

Blondie yanked her arm out of Cupid’s grip and held open both hands. “I-I’m moving,” she told the mugger, trying not to cry. How more useless and cliche could she be? “I’m moving, okay? Please, please don’t hurt her.”

 

“Get. _Going_ ,” the man grated, pale skin stretching over the knuckles of his hand as he gripped the knife even tighter. “You too, Pinky.”

 

Cupid hissed like a snake. Blondie grabbed her hand and tugged, keeping her back to the wall as they sidled into the dark. The man maneuvered Ashlynn along with him, using both of their bodies to block the way out. This was like something out of a terribly cliche movie, Blondie thought, half hysterical as she saw him draw the gun out of his pocket now that he was hidden from sight.

 

Things had been going so well. Cupid bent her head, nearly growling, “I’m going to eat him.”

 

“No,” Blondie snapped back. “No, he’s got Ashlynn! You can’t do anything!”

 

“Shut up, the both of you,” said the mugger. “Empty out your purse, on the ground. Do it fast, or I start shooting! And don’t try anything funny. I don’t _like_ funny, and your friend might just pay the price for trying to get a laugh out of me.”

 

“Oh, my god,” Ashlynn said. “It’s a fake gun! And really, is that the biggest threat you can come up with?”

 

“Stop antagonizing him!” Blondie felt like tearing her hair out. “Are you _nuts?!_ ”

 

“Are _you_ nuts?!” Ashlynn gestured. “What part of _leave_ did you not understand? Why did you go in the alley! Blondie, why do you never listen to me!”

 

“She’s right,” Cupid said. “The gun’s a fake. And, you’re pretty terrible at listening to directions.”

 

“You don’t think I’m _serious?!_ ” The mugger tossed aside the plastic weapon, and grabbed Ashlynn’s chin. “I’ll show you how _serious_ I am!”

 

The knife flashed. Cupid gasped, just as Ashlynn let out a gurgled _“Shit,”_ in shock. There was a wet, scraping sound--and Blondie realized that Ashlynn had been _stabbed_. Cupid clamped a hand over her mouth just before she shrieked, the sound muffled. Tears burst from her eyes and she would have leaped for the man if Cupid hadn’t grabbed her around the waist.

 

“Oh,” Ashlynn wheezed. “Oh, you _jerk_. This was my favorite outfit.”

 

Something sizzled. Cupid began to back deeper into the alley, dragging Blondie along.

 

“Blondie, I really hoped you’d never find out about this,” Ashlynn continued, her voice growing weaker. “I was--I was so, so hoping I could be normal this time around. Please, don’t tell Hunter? About any of this. Especially not the part where I died.”  

 

Blondie panted against Cupid’s hand, half sobbing. It wasn’t until Cupid whispered, “Be quiet. I need you to be quiet,” that Blondie swallowed back the wails building in her chest. She covered her own mouth as she felt Cupid vanish from behind her, the rush and crunch of bone letting her know that Cupid was shifting, changing again.

 

“Listen,” Ashlynn choked out, “call my mom. As soon as you can, call my mom. She’ll know what to do.”

 

“W-where’d the other one go,” the mugger cried out. “What the _hell_ \--”

 

Blondie saw embers flicker up from the wound in Ashlynn’s torso, just before she burst into flames. She didn’t scream--she sighed, in fact, the exhale littered with a strange, echoing birdsong. The man backpedaled, mouth open to shout, when the shadows around him erupted, swallowing him down in a rush of eyes and chattering teeth. Blondie screamed into her hands as she watched her friend come down with a case of spontaneous combustion as another human being was dragged into the ether.

 

A seventeen year old girl shouldn’t have to watch this, Blondie thought distantly. As quickly as the fire started, it ended. The shadows in front of Blondie bulged outward before parting like water and out from the depths crawled Cupid, all boney, sharp edges and monstrous figure. That, in the end, was more comforting than if Cupid had come out all soft and human.

 

Cupid offered her a hand. Blondie ignored it to lunge for her, grabbing her around her thin waist and cough, dry heaving against the ridges of her collarbones.

 

“Oh my god,” Blondie babbled. “This isn’t real, right? I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming. I’m going to wake up and have never met you and Ashlynn isn’t going to Human Torch her way to death and this. This isn’t happening!”

 

Cupid held her, gently. Her fingers combed through Blondie’s hair. “I’ll leave if you want me to,” Cupid said, very softly. “You can pretend you never met me. I won’t even go back to that house.”

 

“Shhh, shh, I’m just hysterical. Don’t mind me, I just watched my friend get stabbed and also explode.” Blondie burrowed closer, the heat of her body leeching away the shocking cold of Cupid’s. “Don’t, don’t let me go.”

 

Cupid’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t,” she said, voice strangely thick. “I promise. But you need to call your friend’s mother.”

 

“How am I gonna tell her mom that she’s _dead?!_ ” Blondie burst into fresh tears at this, gripping onto Cupid’s stupid toga all the harder for it.

 

“You’re not going to,” Cupid said. “Come with me.”

 

A smart person would have refused. Would have run for the hills, and called the government or the Ghostbusters, or _anyone_ to help banish what was clearly some form of eldritch horror. But Blondie was not smart, so she nodded weakly, and let Cupid guide her to the pile of ashes that had once been her friend. The small pile of cinders were all that were left. Blondie whimpered, leaning against Cupid’s side, her heart breaking. Then she shouted, _“What the_ \--” as the pile of cinders began to _move_ . Not in a poetic, wind carrying the ashes away kind of way. More as in the, _is it breathing_ way. Blondie nearly climbed up Cupid’s back as a hand pushed its way out of the pile, dusty with ash.

 

Blondie watched as Ashlynn Ella crawled out of her own cremated remains. Her skin was a fiery, angry red like she’d been out in the sun for days and embers flittered out of her mouth with each gasping, aching breath. The fact that she was naked wasn’t an issue so much that she was _alive_ and rolling out of a metaphorical--literal?--grave. She curled on the pavement, doubled over as she shuddered and shook.

 

“I told you I wasn’t going to spill your secret,” Cupid said, dryly. “ _Phenix_ , you’re looking worse for wear.”

 

Ashlynn whined in answer, teeth chattered as the sunburn color of her skin slowly began to fade.

 

“You need to call her mother,” Cupid reminded gently. “And soon. Someone’s going to have noticed the noise and the smoke by now.”

 

Blondie pulled out her phone, and thumbed for Ashlynn’s mother. It rang twice, before a voice heavily accented with German spoke her name. Still staring at her nude, very much alive friend, Blondie said, “So, Ashlynn set herself on fire. Is that a regular thing for her to do?”

 

“Where are you,” Ashlynn’s mother asked, voice suddenly hard. Blondie rattled off the directions, and heard the woman mutter, “I am on the way. Stay there. Is she reformed?”

 

“H-huh?”

 

“Is _Aschenputtel_ out of the ashes?”

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. She’s not dead anymore.” Blondie knelt down and touched Ashlynn’s hair. Ashlynn gave a little moan and nearly shivered right out of her skin, turning into the touch. She thought she heard Ashlynn groan, _warm_ , but it was hard to hear her around the sound of clacking teeth. “Who’s A--ach--”

 

“Is her full name. We call her Ashlynn when we arrive in the states. Are you on Crystal Street?”

 

“Yeah, alley right by the Starbucks.” Blondie touched Ashlynn’s shoulder, shocked to feel it like ice against her hand. “Oh my god, she’s freezing--!”

 

“Am almost there. Get her to front of alley, into the car. We cannot wait long.”

 

Ashlynn’s mother hung up. Blondie did the same, and put her phone back in her bag. When she touched Ashlynn’s bare back again, it was still a subhuman temperature; Ashlynn choked and whined, unable to uncurl herself from her position but taking comfort. Blondie, for her part, wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore. Her friend was dead, and now she was alive. Cupid had mostly like murdered a man. Ashlynn’s mother was super cool with the knowledge that Ashlynn had been on fire five minutes ago.

 

“What is she,” Blondie said, breaking the silence. “You knew what--you know what she is.”

 

“She isn’t human,” Cupid replied. “Not entirely.”

 

“Oh.” Blondie gripped Ashlynn tighter. “What did you do with him?”

 

Cupid didn’t say anything for a while. Blondie looked up at her, watched the moon frame the outline of her monstrosity, the creaking bones for wings, the lashing tail, the blank and hollow look in her eyes.

 

“Do you want to know,” Cupid asked.

 

Blondie swallowed down bile. “No,” she whispered. “Are you going to leave?”

 

“I promised you I wasn’t letting you go.” Cupid’s voice wavered. “I meant that.”

 

“Okay. Okay, good.” Ashlynn’s mother pulled up a beat later, the car screeching to a halt. “You should change ba--” Cupid didn’t, in fact, change back, and instead scooped a shivering Ashlynn up and hauled her into the car. “--Or you can just ignore me,” Blondie shouted as she got up off the ground, running for the car. “That’s cool too!”

 

Cupid was human again as Blondie jumped into the backseat, and making a sheepish, pained expression. “Sorry. You can’t leave a _Phenix_ out in the cold for very long, not after a resurrection.”

 

“Hello, Blondie,” Ashlynn’s mother greeted. “Hello, old one.”

 

“Cupid,” said girl corrected. “I wish I could have met the mother of the brood in happier conditions.”

 

“Eh, what is good anymore? Bundle _Aschenputtel_ in the blankets, please.”

 

Blondie and Cupid both reached down, grabbing a thick quilt from the bottom of the seats as the car sped off. They wrapped Ashlynn in it burrito style, and finally her shivering began to ease. She opened glassy eyes, her breath steaming out.

 

“ _Mama…?_ ”

 

Ashlynn’s mother spoke in low, soothing German in return. Ashlynn groggily kept up, interrupted constantly by her body jerking out another shiver. The heaters had been cranked up on high; Blondie broke out into a sweat in the first two minutes, but Ashlynn soaked it all up and finally her trembling eased altogether.

 

“ _Phenix_ ,” Blondie mumbled. “It--phoenix. She’s a phoenix.”

 

“No. We are possessed with the spirit,” Ashlynn’s mother said gently. “But we are still human. To an extent.”

 

“Oh. Well.” Blondie figured she was in shock, because she was sure that had Ashlynn or her mother had whipped out this tidbit her world would have exploded. Not her friend. “I guess that makes sense.”

 

“Was she seen?” This question was directed at Cupid, who shook her head.

 

“I took care of him.” Cupid didn’t elaborate, and Blondie was grateful for it. Tomorrow, she would ask for details--she wouldn’t rest until she heard the truth out of Cupid’s own mouth--but for now, she was content not to face the reality of what Cupid had done. It was hard enough to wrap her head around the fact that Ashlynn had _died_ and then _come back_.

 

The car pulled up to Blondie’s house.

 

“We’re going to leave her?” Blondie tried not to panic about it.  

 

“Don’t worry. She is fine. Cold, and tired, but fine.” Ashlynn’s mother caught her eye in the rearview mirror, and Blondie held her breath. Something old and experienced stared back at her; something not human. “Get some rest. Call her tomorrow.”

 

Nodding dumbly, Blondie got out of the car and Cupid followed. Ashlynn and her mother were soon out of sight. Blondie reached out for Cupid, and felt grounded as she held her shoulder. They steadied each other.

  
“Oh, shit,” Blondie swore. “I left my paper at Starbucks.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are a great way to feed a starving ego, by which we mean, please dole out the feedback as you see fit!!


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